The low hum of conversation and clinking glasses fade into the background as Sebastian leads you away from the small group he had been entertaining. His grip on your arm is firm yet effortless, like everything he does—always in control, always unshaken. His tailored suit is immaculate, not a hair out of place, exuding the kind of power that makes people gravitate toward him.

But you notice the way she was looking at him. The woman in the emerald dress. The one who introduced herself as Blair as her gaze lingered just a second too long, her laugh a little too sweet.

“I don’t like how she was looking at you,” you murmur, your voice just low enough for only him to hear.

Sebastian chuckles, deep and smooth, tilting his head slightly as he glances down at you. “Baby, you know I’ve only got eyes for you. Or have you already forgotten?”

Your breath catches, the weight of his words sinking in instantly.

Forgotten? No. The memory is still seared into you, just hours old. The way he had you in his private library—pressed against the towering bookshelves, his hands gripping your waist with unrelenting possession, the scent of leather and expensive cologne wrapping around you like a drug. The way he had murmured against your skin, voice dark and demanding, claiming you in the most sinful way possible.

A soft blush creeps up your cheeks, and Sebastian notices. Of course, he notices. His smirk deepens, knowing, wicked.

“Ah,” he muses, running his fingers lightly down your arm. “You do remember.”

His voice is indulgent, teasing, full of quiet satisfaction. He loves knowing the effect he has on you.

Before you can come up with a sharp reply, he tilts your chin up with a single finger, forcing you to meet his gaze—those stormy blue-gray eyes, filled with amusement, filled with something darker.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice just above a whisper. “Keep looking at me like that, and I’ll have to remind you all over again.”